


lebanon

by thebrotherswholoved



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 300th episode, Lebanon AU, M/M, Mpreg, Tumblr Prompt, Tumblr: thebrotherswholoved, Wincest - Freeform, thanks anon, this is rubbish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 14:30:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17869019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebrotherswholoved/pseuds/thebrotherswholoved
Summary: Based on this anonymous prompt: “Hmm, how about an Mpreg!Sam while what happened in the last episode? Lebanon.”





	lebanon

The weird feeling in the pit of his stomach took over his thoughts as soon as he saw the pearly white smile and creased dimples on his father’s face. 

 

Sam cursed himself for being selfish and cruel when he doesn’t stand up right away, still in shock at what had happened. He’s petrified of his father and nothing has changed, as the man’s face has neither wrinkled nor changed since the last time he saw him on the cold linoleum floor of the hospital. That’s a regret of his, too: as soon as the nurses arrived to attempt resuscitation and John Winchester’s time of death was called, a sense of relief washed over the young adult. 

 

Relief is the opposite of what he felt when the lights turned on, however; he flinched when Dean’s rough, calloused hand grasps his shoulder, only being able to think of John backhanding him, and shuffled away a bit into the bookcase. Something about his and Dean’s father conjures up a response similar to flight-or-fight panic inside of him.

 

Dean had let him be, too preoccupied with seeing his idol’s face after so many years of subconscious grief. While his younger brother cowered in the corner, he had embraced the man and shrugged of Sam’s odd behavior. He probably thought it was shock. 

 

Initially, all Sam could feel was a sense of dread overcoming him...warning him. He only wished he had listened earlier so that it wouldn’t have taken him a few hours and a ‘WANTED’ poster to put the puzzle together. 

 

He could give two shits about Dean being a fugitive—he’s pretty indifferent, if he’s being honest—and although he cringes at his wannabe TED talk, it doesn’t bother him as much as the other realisation that formed from a concoction of other thoughts and anxieties. If he never confessed his feelings to his brother in 2011, they never would’ve gotten together; and if they never got together, Dean wouldn’t have proposed; and if they never got engaged...

 

The brunet is silent the whole way back to the bunker while his brother seems to be entirely unfazed or at least voluntarily oblivious. Meanwhile, he’s panicking and trying his hardest not to hyperventilate or begin crying, begging for this goddamn nightmare to end. Dean may look ecstatic being with their father, but he’s allowed to override that. 

 

Instead of helping Dean with the groceries, Sam bolts past him to get inside, which earns him a mumbled “thanks for the help” from his fiancé. There are black lines creeping into his eyes and obscuring his vision as he tries his hardest to get to somewhere private to ride his panic attack out. 

 

John, who’s flipping through a book in the library, turns to him with a grin that twists into a look of concern as he watches his youngest son stumble around like he’s drunk. The man stops him with a hand on his chest, which is promptly pushed away while Sam’s breaths grow more ragged. 

 

“Sammy, don’t be like that,” John scoffs, apparently thinking that his son is doing this on his own volition.

 

Sam turns around with his own hand over his heart and blinks away his tears. “I-I-I’m sorry...I have t-to g-g-go.”

 

He hears his dad trailing after him but only picks up his pace, almost falling into the stair railing with every step to escape to what used to be considered ‘his’ room. 

 

With fresh tears streaming down his flushed cheeks, Sam closes the bedroom door behind him and paces for a few seconds as his thoughts lash out at him like wild animals. This leads him to sit in the corner nearest to the back of the room and wrap his arms around himself in a cocoon that’s not really meant to be for him. 

 

He’s trying to force himself to be okay or at least put this off until after dinner but he can’t. Both his body and mind are working in sync to put him through this hell, neither of which he can fight in his current state. The man swipes the back of his hand across his face to push his tears away, only to have more trails of emotion take their place. He’s broken and in desperate need of comfort that is unavailable to him. 

 

The only thing that usually gets him through these times of melancholy solitude is the very cause of his anxiety. 

 

A few minutes go by with no progress or reprieve from his emotional inferno, until the sound of the door knob clicking and squeaking of wood against hinges assaults his ears. These violent sounds are followed by a woman’s gasp and light footsteps heading around the bed toward him. Then he sees the bouncing blonde waves framing his mother’s face and the concern lacing throughout her blue irises.

 

“Sam, what happened?” She whispers, hand on her son’s knee. This question only elicits more tears from the crumpled form before her. 

 

“I-I...I don’t want t-to...the pearl...” He heaves while leaning his head against the wall to stabilise himself. “T-time is correcting b-because of John...I don’t want m-my life to fade away, Mom.” 

 

“What do you mean?” Mary sits herself down to be eye level with her youngest son. 

 

Sam’s lower lip quivers. He hadn’t planned on telling anyone about it right now since the news is so new, and now he’s being forced to do so. 

 

Shaking his head, the man pushes back his hair. “After John died, Dean and I d-did a lot. Without those things, our lives aren’t the s-same anymore and—Mom, you wouldn’t be alive again...I think you’ll just f-fade away.” 

 

Mary looks away for a moment while she processes the words just flung at her, thick and full of emotion. She’s going to die...again. As much as she wants to believe it, the short blonde knows her son isn’t this upset over her re-demise—so, what’s making him into a psych ward reject?

 

“Wow,” she murmurs, unable to think of a response to the fact that she’ll be fading into nothing soon. The woman then looks back into her son’s eyes and cracks a weak smile. “What else will ‘fade away?’ Sam, I know you’ve been hiding something from your brother and I and I don’t want to pry, but is that why you’re—“

 

“Yes, I have,” Sam cuts her off as he wipes away another tear that had somehow managed to evade his attention until it reached the corner of his mouth. He takes off his engagement ring and holds it out to her with shaky hands. “Dean gave that to me last year. Before...everything.” 

 

It takes his mother a minute to make sense of why in the hell her one son would give her other a ring, but she eventually figures it out. She’s angry—pissed off, even—but she is in no place to blow up at him. Had she been there for all the injuries, tears, awkward talks, and other firsts, maybe she could have the right to judge. But she wasn’t: she was dead for those years, while her sons were apparently getting closer than any pair of siblings should. 

 

Then she thinks: maybe this is for the best. Maybe her sons were always meant to fall like this and maybe it saved one or both of their lives at some point. She can’t judge, but she can put her own opinions aside and be the mother she’s supposed to be. God knows this family has seen worse than sibling incest, after all. She’s not comfortable, nor is she condoning this relationship, but she’s not condemning it. 

 

“Okay...alright. Congrats?” Mary too leans against the wall and hears her son breath a sigh of relief, knowing that she made the right choice in keeping her judgment to herself. But, she’s still confused about why this is making him so upset? What could possibly fade away that couldn’t be done over? “I still don’t understand, Sam. What about that is making you freak out?”

 

Sam takes a deep breath and lets one of his arms drop from its place across his abdomen. “R-Remember when I told you that Dean and I did a lot after John died?” 

 

The woman nods, and he continues. “Well...if everything that wouldn’t have been done without John’s death fades away, then...then...”

 

He can’t finish his sentence because his eyes cloud over with tears again and he feels sick to his stomach. Why him? Why can’t he just live a normal life with his fiancé without any of this shit? The panic returns and he’s nearly incapacitated by the wave of depression that takes him down as it crashes to the beach below. 

 

Mary seems to have had enough silence and meltdowns and shakes her head at him. “Sam, talk to me, why—“

 

“I don’t want to lose my baby,” he sniffles into his flannel sleeve, hand over his stomach. “Mom, I don’t want to...I c-can’t lose my baby.” 

 

The woman’s face falls, a pallid hue replacing the pink flush that was across her cheeks before. “Sam, why didn’t you...you could’ve told me. H-How long?”

 

Looking up at his mother with bloodshot eyes, he shudders at the pain in his head from all his crying. “E-Eight weeks. I’m sorry...I haven’t even told D-Dean. T-The doctor said it’s still early.”

 

Mary opens her mouth to say something but stops when she hears heavy footsteps heading toward the room. She holds one finger up to Sam, telling him to wait, and heads out into the hall to meet the person herself. 

 

Her older son’s face is bright red in what seems to be anger when she stops him, small hands grabbing his shoulders and making him face her. 

 

“Mom, move,” Dean grits his teeth. 

 

“No,” she replies simply, guiding him over to the side of the corridor so she can either talk or knock some sense into her son. “What the hell has gotten into you?”

 

“Dad told me that Sam isn’t talking to him. Why wouldn’t he talk to ‘im? We’re supposed to be a family, just for tonight!” The bow-legged man all but yells at his mother. 

 

Mary grabs him by the wrist and stares daggers at him. “Stop it. Sam told me, Dean; I know about you both. If you go in there and yell at him, I will hurt you. Jesus, you’re acting just like your father!” 

 

Dean goes pale at his mom’s words. Why would Sam tell her after he specifically asked him not to, after he told him that it could break her?! Of course he’s acting like his father—he’s right downstairs! 

 

“Obviously there’s some bad blood between them and I just wanna clear it up. What do you think I’m gonna do, hit him? God, Mom, I love him! I love him more than anything in the world, why would I ever hurt him on purpose?!” 

 

The man’s eyes have glazed over with an accusatory glare, one which Mary doesn’t like. “He’s a mess, Dean; a mess that doesn’t need to be screamed at or—“

 

The woman’s monologue is cut off by the sound of choking and heaving from inside the room. Dean’s anger seems to fade as he runs to see what’s wrong, Mary following suit; meanwhile, Sam is puking his guts up out of a disgusting mixture of panic and morning sickness. 

 

“Sammy,” the older brother gasps and rushes over to his fiancé’s side to catch him when he falls back in exhaustion. 

 

Mary hands Sam a tissue and he wipes his mouth before looking up at man holding him in a strong embrace. “I can’t...I c-can’t do this by myself anymore, De.”

 

“Do what?” Dean wants to cry at how weak, scared, and exhausted his lover looks. 

 

He’s is able to watch his fiancé pull a white-backed photograph from his jeans pocket and hand it over to him. Dean inspects the picture in his hands, his breath hitching in his throat when he first notices a head. Real tears dampen his cheeks as he recognises tiny pairs of arms and legs in the scan, turning it over to read ‘Baby Winchester—8 Weeks’ through his cloudy vision. His hand clasps over his mouth to catch his joyful sobs and he grips the ultrasound scan tighter. 

 

“Really?” His voice is hoarse now, a smile on his face. He’s managed to forget everything that’s happening around him—his mom, John, the pearl—to focus on the love of his life, who nods. With a strangled whimper, he wraps Sam in a hug and kisses his cheek, only to hear him cry harder. “Hey, what’s wrong? I thought...d-don’t you want this?” 

 

The younger nods furiously, hand over his stomach. He wants this more than anything...but because of what’s happening around him, he might not be able to get his wish. “Of course I do. It’s just...De, if dad doesn’t go back, I...I’ll lose the baby. We never would’ve gotten together or gotten engaged, s-so I wouldn’t have gotten p-pregnant.” 

 

Mary is crying now as well, but goes unnoticed by both boys. In Dean’s mind, the choice isn’t a choice at all. His and Sam’s baby or their father? He looks up at his mom, who nods and cries harder, before turning back to Sam and taking his hands.

 

“How do we send him back?”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry lmao I’m sick and decided to send this trash into the void (also, why do I always write when I’m ill? it always sucks?? america expLAIN)


End file.
